Miraculous Mary: When Mary Met Marshall
by Adelled
Summary: Aren't there events in your life you would do differently if you could? What would Mary do if she got a do over?


Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary: When Mary met Marshall

Mary POV

I got a call from a panicky Jordan Beckworth sure that the Greigo gang was in town. The trial was set for next week so the gang is making their move now. I had to get to his place and needed backup but Delia was on the other side of town. When old big ears Chief Marshall heard what was going on, he insisted on coming.

Within 15 minutes we were at Jordan's. Marshall went around back of the small house. Jordan had been watching for me and opened the front door. I checked the bathroom then locked him in and cleared the rest of the house. Leaning against the bathroom door, gun drawn, I waited for Marshall's all clear. Instead I hear the pop pop of gunfire.

I wrench open the back door to find Marshall splayed on the back stoop, legs akimbo and a red spot growing in the middle of his white shirt. I kneel over him and scan for the shooter. Holstering my Glock I put pressure on the wound with one hand and grab my phone with the other. "Officer down, officer down," I shout adding the address.

"Dammit Marshall. You aren't supposed to be here." I drop the phone and use both hands but the blood keeps coming. "Marshall!" I yell. His eyes are closed. "C'mon partner, open those baby blues. Tell me what to do."

I'm bunching up his shirt to sop up the blood when his eyes open. "There you are. You've got to hang on Marshall. The ambulance is on the way." His eyes flicker shut and his head lolls to the side. I grab his face, putting red hand prints on his cheeks. Staring into his eyes I force him to look at me. "You promised. Remember? You can't leave. Not now."

"Mare," he bleats. His eyes stare straight ahead unseeing.

"No," I wail and pound his broken chest. "No. You can't leave." I frantically start rescue breathing, my lips on his for the first time. "I need you Marshall. Dammit your partner needs you!" Jinx replaced the medal I lost when I used it to track my father. Now I understood why he gave it to me. He wanted me to have faith in something besides him. I watch it sway over Marshall's face. God, I could use a miracle about now, I can't feel his breath. I can see his pulse slowing. I tilt my head back and wail. "Nooooo!"

I haven't prayed in decades, but I do now. "He's a good man." I plead. "He doesn't deserve this. Please don't let him die! He's got so much more good to do!"

I stopped praying when Jinx drank herself into oblivion and Brandi and I went hungry, but maybe we didn't deserve saving. Sister Cecelia said God always answers our prayers and sometimes the answer is no. I can't accept that. Not this time. Not for Marshall. He deserves to live and have every good thing. Please God, please holy mother. Let him live.

I'm pushing my breath into his lungs. I close my eyes trying to contain my tears but a bright light penetrates my eyelids. WTF? When did ambulances get searchlights? I look up, but I don't see or hear any EMTs. The light softens and I see a woman in a white robe with a blue cloak billowing in the wind. Except there's no wind. This is the image I saw every morning when Sister Cecelia took us to mass the year Jinx sent us to Catholic school, the image on my miraculous medal.

I'm desperate enough to try anything and everything to keep him alive. "Blessed Mother, please let my friend live. Marshall is a good man. He deserves to live. Please, save him."

A moment of profound silence enfolds us. "Daughter named for me." Her words reverberate through my body. "You can change his fate if you follow your heart."

The light fades and I'm no longer kneeling. I'm standing in the courtyard of some anonymous federal building gray sunlight barely penetrating the clouds. No Marshall. I'm wearing my old leather jacket, the black one I bought with my first paycheck and wore till it fell apart. I try wiping the blood off my hands, running my hands down my jeans, but my hands are clean. There's no blood. I remember those jeans. I loved those jeans. So did the FTF guys.

Fugitive Task Force? I check the jacket pockets and find a toothbrush, small toothpaste and a travel size deodorant. The stuff I routinely carried when on pursuit. What am I doing here? There's a newspaper rack at the edge of the courtyard. I check the date. What the hell? Why would there be years old newspapers in the rack? What was I doing then? Ah, I remember. I was chasing Carson Miller.

So is this what the Blessed Virgin meant when she said I can change Marshall's fate? I have another chance? If this is the Carson Miller case, Claudia and Henry and here. Henry's father doesn't need to die. I know where Carson is heading. I just have to get there first and shoot him before he can take out Henry's father. Then I can arrest his no good uncle for hiring a killer and no witnesses will need protection. No Marshall.

Oh god. I know what is going to happen but how do I convince the rest of the team? I have to get to Carson so that Henry and Claudia won't see his father get shot. Marshall can stay in Albuquerque safe and sound. We never meet and he doesn't die providing backup for me in the future.

Okay, I can do this. I enter the building and find the conference room FTF is using. There are maps and papers scattered over the tables.

"Why is Carson Miller here?" I ask the team. "Where's his gang? Is he working alone? Has he been hired to kill someone and if so who?" Heads come up from where they've been studying maps. "Have any phone calls to or from Carson been traced?"

"Jimmy," I call to our tech head. "You have anything on his phone or the gang's phones?" Cell phones were pretty new back then. Cell towers weren't as plentiful. Jimmy, I realized now, was ahead of the curve. He was surprised by my request. It wasn't standard procedure. "I traced a few calls, let me check the numbers."

Oh god. What was Henry's last name? Doer. Good, now did his uncle Neal have the same last name? How do I get Jimmy to check for calls from Neal Doer without seeming bat shit crazy? I sigh with relief when it turns out I don't have to. The number calling Carson belongs to Neal Doer. I get Craig, my so called partner, to come with me and check out the house. I never had a real partner till Marshall.

We park a few houses away from Uncle Neal's. There's a ratty Mustang parked the other side of the house. "Craig! Does that look like Carson to you?" Even my good for nothing partner can't deny his own eyes. I don't wait for him. I'm out of the car, skulking between trees and shrubs, keeping an eye on Carson. He's wearing a dark knit cap and jacket.

I'm closing in on him wondering where my so called partner is. Carson is getting too close. I can't let him ring that door bell. "Carson!" I yell. That gets his attention. He brings up his gun looking for me. I'm in the bushes of the house next door. My yell got my partner to hide too. Carson slows down and walks closer. He's spotted me and raises his gun. Before he can pull the trigger my partner yells, and Carson turns toward him giving me a clear shot of the gun. I shoot it out of his hand and my partner and I land on him like a ton of bricks. Craig holds him in place by kneeling on him while I call it in. Mission accomplished. Now to get out of town and on with the rest of this life.

I hear a car start up. The crappy looking Mustang is taking off. Shit! Carson wasn't alone. Has to be Carson's gang. Finally other FTF marshals arrive as well as EMTs to look at Carson's hand. My so called teammates hate to be one upped by the only woman on the task force. No congratulations for me. I don't expect any. Just doing my mother humpin job.

We go back to the federal building and debrief. It's a good thing my partner drives us to the motel because I don't remember it. He stops for burgers on the way and I rag on him till he pays for mine. I could use a beer but I know that's not going to happen.

Dinner and a shower and I'm ready for bed. Wonder what Jinx and Brandi are up to. Has Brandi met Chuck? Maybe I can stop that train wreck. The mattress isn't the greatest, but at this point, I don't care.

I was sound asleep in the ratty motel room the Marshal Service provides when someone without the sense god gave a goat is knocking on my door. Can't be any of my so called team mates. They know better. I check my phone. For gods sake the sun's not up yet. Why should I be?

The knocking repeats. "Marshal Shannon? Mary Shannon."

What the hell? No one is supposed to know who we are. I stomp to the door and wrench it open. WTF? What is Marshall doing here?

"Marshal Mary Shannon?"

"Yeah?"

Boy scout that he is he holds up his badge. "I'm Marshal Mann. May I come in?"

This wasn't supposed to happen. Why in the hell is he here? I hesitate, thinking of a reason to keep him out. There really isn't one. Great. Wonderful. Fantastic. I was sleeping in a thin tank top and yoga pants. My hair is a mess and I probably have pillow wrinkles. Nevertheless, I step aside.

"What is this about?"

"Carson Miller's gang has put out a hit on you." Since I'm not a witness, he doesn't bother to sugar coat it.

"That was quick. I just brought him in yesterday."

Marshall stands just inside the door. He's nervous. My reputation must have preceded me. "No, actually that was the day before."

WTF? I slept an entire day? No wonder I'm starving. I look at him as if he's crazy. He unfolds the newspaper he's carrying and sure enough the date confirms what he said.

"Would you like to get your robe before we talk about this?"

"Robe? What kind of lady of the evening do you think I am numnutz?" I cross my arms over my chest making the girls sit up higher, just to see him squirm. "If it will make you feel better I'll get dressed, then you can buy me breakfast." Just because I know the kind of man he is doesn't mean I'm not going to take advantage of the situation.

I grab my go bag, put it on the bed and start peeling off my tank top. Marshall turns so quickly I'm afraid he'll fall over. It doesn't take me long to get dressed. "You can turn around now, Doofus. You won't see anything you haven't seen before. Now why are you here?"

He clears his throat. "It's been decided that you are going into protective custody until Carson Miller's gang are no longer a threat."

It's not too difficult to summon the outrage I would have felt. "I'm a US Marshal. I can take care of myself."

"Be that as it may, the director wants you under wraps, starting now." Will you look at that! Marshall being all firm and commanding. Who knew?

"What about Miller's target, the family? Are they safe?"

"So it would appear. The gang's beef is with you and you alone."

"Can't you use me as bait? Lure the gang out of hiding and pick them off one by one?" I do not want to go with Marshall. The whole point of this second chance is to keep me out of his life.

"That's an idea you can present to the Chief, but for now, we need to go."

I stamp my foot. "Not without breakfast!"

I can tell Marshall is frustrated and even though I'm not a witness he remains calm. "You can't eat when you're dead. Let's get on the road and we'll stop once we've got some miles behind us." He pauses and fishes in his jacket pocket. "I've got a granola bar."

I give it a look. "There's no chocolate in that. What good is it?"

Marshall shrugs and puts it back. "Are you packed?"

I sigh, disgusted. "Lemme use the bathroom, and we can go." I grab my toiletries, stuff them in my go bag and strap on my badge and my Glock. Marshall eyes the badge and gun as if thinking about taking them but the glare I give him convinces him otherwise. I know the badge will have to go, but I'll wait till he broaches the subject so I can give him grief.

We leave the motel with Marshall doing his careful surveillance of the parking lot. I'm not going to worry about the bill. He opens the passenger door for me and is ready to push me in when I hesitate. Instead he says, "Give me your bag." I reluctantly hand it over and he waits till I'm seated and the door is closed before putting it in the back. We're on the road in his black SUV driving west.

Shit! This isn't going to work.

* * *

A/N: The second half of this story reboots season 3 episode 3. Each of the Miraculous Mary one shots will be posted on Saturday and they have a similar start. After that scene, the stories will differ. A few months ago there were 999 IPS stories on ffnet but it is now 995. That is unacceptable! 1K here we come!


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